Bearly Kept Secrets
by WildHorseFantasy
Summary: When a forgery suspect is murdered to steal an antique, Peter and Neal are drawn into a quest to find a killer. Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Just for fun, not for profit. Thanks to those who bring White Collar to life.**

**Inspiration: See the end of the chapter.**

**And now: On with the story!  
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><p>Neal Caffrey was anything but happy to be called in on a Sunday. He was even less happy to find a dead body involved. Peering down in surprise and dismay, he recognized their most recent suspect. Investigating forgery and theft of a collection of rare books and Joel Magnus was their suspected forger. Neal drew back, swallowing hard. Magnus had been sliced up with an ancient pike. Blood was splattered on the door frame and floor.<p>

Peter Burke's eyes followed his partner as he gave the dead man a wide birth.

"Do you really need me for this?" Neal grumbled.

Peter nodded. "We need to figure out why he was here and who killed him." He took a moment in his own analysis of the scene to appreciate his partner's reaction. The young man was pale and disturbed. Neal Caffrey was a walking contradiction. It took a cold narcissist to con people out of their possessions, to steal, and charm the victim. Yet Neal wasn't cold, not without empathy and compassion for others. Every time the agent saw Neal Caffrey's genuine sadness at a death, his eagerness to help the victims, he knew he was worth fighting to rehabilitate.

Neal frowned as he looked around at the museum. It featured an odd assortment of items, a private collection that had been made into a museum on the owner's death. The murder weapon was obviously the pike from a suit of armor that stood nearby. Blood covered the end still embedded in the victim. The other end looked well polished. "Did they wipe it down?" Neal asked, pointing at it but reluctant to look close.

"Don't think so. But I'll bet the killer wore gloves."

"Definitely." Neal shivered. "Even if he didn't plan a crime, it's freezing outside."

"Looks like a weapon of opportunity." Peter said calmly. "The question is, what was he after?"

Neal traded his winter gloves for latex ones. He started to walk around and inspect the windows. Peter walked with him, pointing out the other doors. He was avoiding the room closest to the body. The crime scene techs and medical examiner were moving in to deal with that, giving him an excellent excuse. His eyes took in the security cams. "Did we get any footage?"

"Jones is looking into it."

The cautious exploration of the converted house revealed that it was mostly untouched. Paintings still hung in place, china and glass cabinets were filled with labeled artifacts. Rope guards blocked access to certain areas. They proceeded into these rooms as well, touching nothing. If it was covered with dust, they noted it. If it was cleaned, they noticed that too. But so far the only thing they found that seemed off was the dead body with a pike in it.

Jones finally called on his cell. "You are not gonna believe what this guy died for. Come up and see this."

Peter and Neal hurried past windows on the flight of stairs, shivering at the drafts blowing the curtains around. They made it up to a small room in the attic where the security feed was set up. It was almost too warm in the small closed space, compared to the rest of the house. Jones keyed into the appropriate frames of the computer. "Here's where we first see anything odd."

Someone appeared in black, creeping into the side hall. The room was dark but the camera showed his height and weight in the low lights.

"That's Magnus." Peter stated.

"Then who is that?" Neal murmured. He leaned closer, studying the other figure which appeared to come from the front carrying something in a plastic bag. Whoever it was moved into the door where the body lay. It came out with something in hand, which it was stuffing into the bag which now hung limp. Magnus stepped out, and a conversation ensued. It turned violent. Magnus tried to take whatever the man was holding. The newer man pulled a gun out. Magnus jumped at him, twisted and they ended up fighting. Then the first man grabbed the pike and swung. They all winced as blood flew.

"So what did he die for? What was he after?" Neal asked.

Jones zoomed in. He adjusted for the poor lighting and Peter and Neal stared at it and each other.

"Is that...a teddy bear?" Peter asked.

"Yep." Jones said. His brows rose as he looked at the two standing behind him. "What do you make of that twist?"

Neal was frowning. "I guess we need to check out that room. Is there another way in?"

"No. But the body should be moved by now. Let's go."

Neal winced again, not thrilled to have to pass all that gore. But they trotted down the steps again, leaving Jones to collect the security footage as evidence.

The body, sure enough, was gone. Cautiously they hopped over the awkwardly drawn outline of a body left by the techs. Neal shook his head and jolted to a stop after only one stride. The lights had come on as Peter found the switches by the door. Peter drew a surprised breath behind him.

"Really?" Neal murmured. But he smiled and glanced back at Peter. The agent had a bemused look on his face.

The tough, eccentric who'd left the collection had an unusual room here. It was devoted to toys. Most particularly, to teddy bears.

"You don't suppose he mistook it for the gift shop." Peter came alongside him. His gaze swept the room. One teddy sat on an old fashioned black rocking horse. More piled on a couch, with a few old china dolls just for contrast. An old train track was set up around the room, complete with 'hills' that bolted into the walls. A teddy bear was the conductor sitting next to the train. Some of the bears were realistic, some had glass eyes, others buttons. They had curly or mohair or suede paws. One had a humped back. Several seemed to be burrowing under a quilt. Another was posed with it's paw on a metal toy truck, while another wore aviator gear and held up a model airplane.

"Wow." Neal said thoughtfully. "This guy really loved his toys."

"Okay, but..."

"Out of all the valuables in the house, he stole one particular bear and killed a guy over it. And Magnus must've known something was extra special or he wouldn't have tried to get it."

"So what do you know about antique teddy bears?" Peter asked. Neal always seemed to know something about anything valuable. So he was extremely curious as to his answer.

"I know the earliest ones were made by Michtom and Steiff at about the same time. It started with Theodore Roosevelt refusing to shoot a bear cub because it wasn't sporting. It's hard to say who made the first one." Neal shoved his hands in his coat pockets as he studied the room. They certainly don't go for the price of a Matisse or a Raphael but finding an early one in good condition they aren't chump change either."

"In other words, if the five year old wants to play with it..."

"You really would go looking for the gift shop. Damage one of these you could buy a whole warehouse of new teddy bears."

"But why kill for that one in particular?

Neal frowned. "I think we'll need to know more about that particular bear."

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><p><strong>Inspired by: Mozzie's teddy bear and John J. Lamb's Teddy Bear Mystery novels<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

The museum curator Donald Jaywin, was appalled. "I just can't believe it. Murder in the museum? A teddy bear stolen?"

He sounded as if the thought was inconceivable.

"Can you tell us which one is missing? Anything about it?"

The curator stood, wringing his hands and sweating heavily in spite of the temperatures outside.

"I can't see that any are missing. But...yes, that one has been moved."

"How can you tell?"

"Oh, We always prop it up a certain way to show it's best side."

"We saw him on camera actually leave with a bear. He was stuffing it in a bag." Peter pointed out.

"What can you tell us about this one?" Neal interrupted.

"It's a Steiff bear. Jointed limbs, glass eyes...I have a picture for the insurance."

They followed the man into the office, which at the back of the house. "Here." The picture was of a bear, an almost sad looking mouth, only one ear and tan coloring. It had a torn bow around it's neck.

"That's not even mint condition." Neal noted in surprise.

"Yes. Strange that it's the one that's been bothered."

"What's it's history?"

"It actually belongs to Ryan Winsery."

"Not the museum?" Peter asked. "I thought this was all from Sam Druthers collection?" Sam being the eccentric collector, who'd died last year.

"Sam was Ryan's grandfather." The curator smiled sadly. "The bear was passed down to Ryan's father, and then to Ryan. When Ryan joined the military and started to get called up to go on assignment, he was afraid the bear would be lost. So he asked us to keep it here."

"Where did it come from originally? This bear was made in the early 1900s. Where did the family get it to start with?"

The curator went into lecture mode, pulling off wire rimmed glasses and rubbing them with a cloth. "Druther was in World War II. As a young officer, he saw a great deal of fighting in the trenches. One day he was lost from his platoon for several hours. During that time, he found the bear in the remains of a farm house. From the large markings and slurs written on the wall, he gathered that a jewish family had lived there. Perhaps he was lonely, being so young, but seeing the bear he picked it up. Later, he was involved in the discovery of the interment camps." He stared straight ahead as if he was seeing the scene on a screen in front of him. "He always said that finding the bear gave him hope. It reminded him of a normal life and what he fought to preserve. And later it reminded him of how much he had to be grateful for as an American, for his freedom and family."

"Some people would've seen it as an unpleasant reminder." Neal's voice was soft but interested.

The curator smiled. "Yes. But somehow, Sam retained his optimism. If anything, the bear encouraged him."

Peter glanced at Neal, chafing to get on with the case but trusting Neal's instinct.

"Was the bear in this condition when he found it? Or was it damaged by being played with?"

"I believe the ear was already partly ripped off. There was also...here." He pulled out a close up photo of the bear's other side, angled to the front you could see a gash by the back of the bear's neck. "The repairs were there when he found it. As for the bow, I'm sure it isn't the original."

"I think we should take a closer look at the bear."

"Please be careful with it." Jaywin fretted. He stepped over the rope and picked up the teddy. He carefully handed it across to Peter. Peter frowned at the bear and glanced it over. He handed it to Neal. Neal turned it over carefully. "This isn't the same bear."

"What?" The director's eyes widened.

Peter's eyes narrowed and his eyes met Neal's in realization.

Neal held the bear up, showing them the back. "The repaired gash is missing. There isn't any sign of damage here." He tilted it to look at the head, eyes narrowed and held it up to his nose. Taking a deep sniff, he announced "it doesn't smell old either."

Appalled, the curator moaned. "Not this one. Why did it have to be this bear? I promised him it would be safe."

"Can we get in touch with Mr. Winsery?"

"Last I heard from him, he was stationed overseas. Let me look through my address book. Oh no. How will I tell him? That bear had sentimental value aside from the cost."

"We'll inform him. And we'll be looking for the bear." Peter replied as he took the slip of paper the man copied from his book.

Neal pulled on his winter gloves as they stepped out into the cold. "So. We are investigating grand theft bear."

"Murder. We are investigating a murder."

"I can't tell my street contacts to be on the look out for a murderer. I can tell them to look for an antique teddy bear."

"But we still don't know why that bear." Peter shook his head, ducking against the wind and yanking open the taurus door. Neal was already climbing in the other side. "What will Mozzie say when you tell him to be on the look out for a stolen teddy bear?"

"I don't know. But it should be interesting."

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><p>"They stole a teddy bear?" Mozzie wasn't just surprised. He was outraged. Neal was startled by the intense reaction.<p>

"An old expensive one."

"With sentimental value. With all the stuff in that place, they could surely have found something worth more money and less sentiment."

"How did you know it had sentimental value?"

"It's a teddy bear!" Mozzie flung his hands in the air.

Neal recalled having seen Mozzie sleeping with his teddy bear, something he'd noted but never commented on.

"So you'll keep an eye out?"

"Ha. Of course. But it won't turn up for sale."

"Too hot?"

"They didn't steal it to put it on the black market. Maybe to get even with the family?"

"Holding a teddy bear for ransom?"

"Maybe the original owner came after it."

"The original owner lost it during World War II. And there is no reason to think they survived."

"Maybe someone wants to copy it."

"You mean besides replacing it with a modern fake?"

Mozzie scowled. "Forged! What kind of forger are you that forgets you can copy things and sell them at the price of the originals? Why settle for just replacing it? They may plan on making a ...bunch...herd...whatever a group of bears is called."

Neal drew back. "Easy, Moz, what's gotten you so cranky? You've dealt with stolen religious artifacts without getting this worked up."

"Teddy bears are a symbol of security, of innocence. Its just"...Mozzie flailed his arms..., "so wrong!"

At that, Neal tilted up his glass of wine to hide his grin. He could just imagine Peter's reaction to Mozzie's statement, given his less than normal code of ethics. Not that Neal had room to talk either.

* * *

><p>Jones turned up the first lead, with the less than enviable job of looking back over the security footage. Tracking down a couple of repeat daytime visitors who'd signed the guest book. Speaking to these yielded no clues, except for the announcement that the teddy bear room was the most popular for families. It was also the most profitable, because anyone going in there was almost guaranteed to go into the gift shop to buy a teddy bear, albeit a modern, less expensive one.<p>

The gift shop attendant had the first real clue. "There was a woman in here, came in with a friend on a tour at lunch time. She came back the next day and wanted to know more about that bear in particular. I couldn't tell her much that wasn't already printed in the museum guide. She wanted to know details about where it had been found. She was on the phone at the same time, I think she was relaying answers to someone."

Neal interrupted. "Do you sell cameras?"

"What?"

"In the gift shop. Some museums allow photos, some don't."

"We do, as long as the flash is turned off."

"Did you see her get a picture?"

"I don't know."

That took them back to Jones and the security feed. The gift shop attendant was able to point out the woman.

"Thanks for your help." Peter stated.

Neal was already crowding Jones, who gave him a look.

"Sorry." Neal sat. "Can you find her the day before?"

They backtracked and found her and sure enough she held up her phone as she looked at the exhibit.

"Snapped a bunch of shots from different angles," Jones nodded.

Neal's eyebrows rose. "Mozzie might just be right."

"About?"

"Maybe the previous owners or their descendants really are looking for it."

"That's crazy."

"Yeah, but sentimental value can me measured in dollars." Neal observed.

Peter considered this. One day, he promised himself, he'd find out more about Neal's history. And where that young man's particular views on what to be sentimental about came from.


	3. Chapter 3

"I've got something." Mozzie told Neal over the phone. "Someone is looking for a forger to do stolen bears."

"How do you know?" Neal was startled at how fast Mozzie had gotten the information.

"They're gathering materials and a few other bears have been stolen. Imitations are showing up to be fenced. Only a close look shows they aren't the real thing."

"Seriously?" Neal was incredulous.

"Do I sound like I'm joking?"

"No. Sorry...it's just...never mind." He decided not to mention that someone was very interested in the bear's history. He'd been inclined to think the forgery was just a one time thing to give the thief time to escape. If it weren't for Magnus interrupting him, the fake bear might've covered the crime for some time.

He disconnected and trotted up the steps to Peter's door. He'd barely entered when Jones came up behind him.

Jones leaned in the door of the office."We've found Ms. Banson. Diana has convinced her to come in for a chat."

"Mozzie says someone is forging copies of the bear. They've already hit the black market. Maybe someone really did plan on copying a bunch of bears. The one they replaced it with was recreated from photos so they couldn't match it exactly. But with the real bear and some reference photos from others, they could forge a bunch of bears." Neal informed them.

"A sleuth," Peter said.

Neal and Jones, looked at him.

"A bunch of bears is a sleuth. I saw it in a crossword." He smirked. "Ironic, since sleuthing is what we're doing to find the stolen bear."

"And I guess we better be real careful." Neal eyes sparkled with mischief. "Anyone killing over teddy bears is bound to be fur-ocious."

Jones eyes widened and he shook his head as he headed back to his desk, smiling.

Peter nudged Neal and nodded at the door. Diana was coming in. She introduced them to Ms. Banson, who looked less than pleased to be there. The others led her into the conference room. She sat stiffly.

"Why am I here? What do you want?"

Peter glanced at Diana.

"All I did was ask her a question. The minute I said FBI she got upset and refused to talk in front of her co workers." She glanced back out the door where Jones was signaling her with the universal 'phone' signal. "I guess I better get that." She left them to take the call.

The woman snorted. "Where I work, people gossip. If they see me talking to the FBI they'll invent a scandalous reason just for fun."

"Ms. Banson," Peter said firmly, "we know you were asking at the Druther Museum about a particular teddy bear's history and took a picture of it. We'd like to know why."

"I'm interested in history, found the bears cute and took a picture. Why is that so interesting to the FBI? Surely other people took pictures."

"None returned and asked plenty of questions with a bear later involved in a murder, stolen and replaced with a fake. ."

Mrs. Banson sucked in a breath, she looked disturbed. "I don't know anything about that."

Peter tapped his finger lightly on the desk, eyes narrowed. She was lying.

"Who did you show it too?"

Her eyes glanced away. "I e-mailed it to friends."

"Which friends?"

"My sewing group. My sister. A college friend. No-one who'd kill over it."

Neal glanced around and backed out of the office slowly. Diana was having a rapid discussion with Jones, meaning that she had something. Rather than listen to the lies which were fooling no-one, he decided to check it out.

"Wow. Marco Hoffman?" Jones was impressed.

"What about Marco Hoffman?" Neal leaned over Diana's shoulder and she moved over.

"Uncle of Philip Hoffman, Linda Banson's ...lover." Diana smirked.

Neal's brows rose. "Lover huh?"

"And he has or had, ties to Magnus." Jones nodded. "So there is our connection."

"But it still doesn't explain why." Neal looked up at the conference room. Even from here he could see Peter was getting annoyed.

"Not getting anything of her, or you wouldn't be here." Diana observed.

"She's a cold fish. And not at all good at lying." He glanced up as she hurried out of Peter's office. The agent looked unhappy as he came to join them. " So, Mozzie says there have been a couple of forged teddy bears fenced?

"Magnus was a forger. Although it sounds weird, forging teddy bears." Jones observed.

"But what's the deal with the history lesson? She doesn't need that to forge the teddy bear. She only needs to figure out who made it and when."

"Maybe she really is just interested?" Jones suggested doubtfully.

"No-way. Plenty more expensive toys in that place to fence. This one was special." Diana stated.

"So I guess that leaves one question." Peter said, a half smile growing on his face. He glanced at Neal. "Can you forge teddy bears?"

Neal blinked. He should really have seen the question coming. "With a bit of research..." He didn't finish the confident statement that with research he could forge nearly anything. "Why?"

"Because if Hoffman is involved in this, and he's been using Magnus, he is now out a forger. He may be behind our book forgery and thefts too."

"You want me to replace Magnus."

"And find out who killed him."

"What if that was Hoffman who killed him? Maybe he didn't need him anymore."

"We'll have your back. It looked like the only reason he was killed was because he had an argument and pulled a gun. Maybe it was a double cross, or blackmail. But it didn't look like a premeditated murder."

"True." Not that Neal found this comforting. He'd heard rumors about Hoffman.

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><p>"This is a bad idea." Mozzie had his arms crossed and he looked upset. "You're life is worth more than a stolen teddy bear."<p>

"We're after a killer."

"My point exactly." Moz fired back. "Hoffman has ties to the white racist groups who worships Hitler. And I mean for real, not just someone who joins a prison gang for protection, but someone who really believes it and will torture people and small animals for fun. You do not want to mess with this guy."

"It's not like I don't have backup."

"Neal..." Mozzie chewed his lip worried. "Heaven forbid it should ever happen...but what if something lands you inside again? A frame...an old bit of forgotten business...this guy has ties on the inside. Its a guarantee you'd wind up dead or worse inside a week."

Mozzie's pessimism was wearing on Neal's nerves. "Moz, I have to go. Peter has my back. And I have no intention of winding up back in prison."

"You had no intention of winding up inside in the first place..." Mozzie grumbled. "If you get killed I claim the wine collection..."

Neal could still hear him grumbling as he went out to meet his new contact. Peter had taken the tracker off as he often did when Neal was undercover. He had the eagle pen on him to record with. Combining the trust implied with the trackers removal and the invigorating cool air, Neal was feeling ready for a challenge.

Neal was striding up the street en route to the meet, when two people flanked him. Slightly startled, but not alarmed he recognized one as an associate of Hoffman. "Can I help you?"

The one man in a black leather jacket grabbed his arm. He was bald, with sun glasses and he steered Neal toward a black van. "Your coming with us."

"I'm supposed to meet a friend."

"Your meetings changed."

Neal felt just a tad uneasy as they took off in the van. The sky was darkening and sleet was starting up. It was a horrible time for a stake out, let alone to be tailing a vehicle. They were driving along for sometime, Neal tried to start a conversation, but the cold look the man sitting across from him gave him silenced him. The city lights were fading. It took awhile for Neal to realize this wasn't just due to the weather. No, they were leaving the city behind. Glancing up toward the driver, he tried to get a view of the rear view mirrors without being conspicuous. He didn't want to admit to himself that right now, he missed it. The sight of it could've blown his cover, but there were times having that GPS going straight to the feds was comforting. Like, for instance, when he was being driven to some strange place during a winter storm by men with guns.

"Where are we going?"

"You wanted a meeting."

Neal glared. "No-one said anything about driving to the arctic to get to it."

"If you'd prefer to walk, it's an option."

Neal fell silent again. He'd freeze if he had to walk in this.

Somewhere far behind, Peter, Jones and Diana fought to relocate him. Between the bad weather, low visibility and the the jammer in the van that silenced his transmitter, their worst fear was being realized. They'd lost him.


	4. Chapter 4

He tumbled out of into a garage at a hard shove and Neal fought not to stagger. He'd been sitting in one position too long. They were met a blond man with fierce eyes. The grey blue eyes met his and bore in. Wordless, the man hauled him in, tossed him in a room where he fell on a daybed. Stunned Neal looked up. "Hey, This is no way to do business."

"My last business associate tried to double cross me. So you're a forger and you've got a good reputation Landry. You'll get a cut. But you don't leave until the job is done."

Neal glared back at him. "I don't work this way."

Philip Hoffman strode right up to him and they were in a glaring match. He moved so fast Neal didn't see the knife until it was at his throat. He grabbed him again, hauled him to a back door and slammed him face first into the snow. Neal struggled as the knife slashed at him and by the time he was free he realized Hoffman had ripped off his coat. Shivering as the sleet slammed him he charged back, only to stop as a gun appeared. "In or out. But if it's in, it's my rules."

Neal's lips set into a thin line. He'd freeze if he stayed out here before Peter could find him. "Fine. In."

Back in the room Hoffman slammed the missing bear down in front of him.

Neal was fighting to stop shivering but he pointed out "that's a rough way to treat an antique."

Hoffman slammed the knife down and pointed at it. "Open it up."

Neal was dumbfounded. "What?"

"You need to take it apart anyway to see how to do a copy." Hoffman's eyes bored into his. "What's in it, belongs to me. You forget you ever saw it. Don't make the same mistake Magnus did. No-one crosses me and lives to tell the tale. Once you know how to make copies, you put it back together so no-one knows it was taken apart, minus the bit I want taken out."

"Magnus? Whose Magnus? And how will I..."

"You'll know when you see it...and then you better forget it."

Neal stared down at the toy in growing alarm. The lights flickered. Swearing, Hoffman backed out of the room, slamming door closed and locking it behind him. Carefully, Neal examined the room. No windows. But there were chinks in the old wooden ceiling where the floor of the attic was sagging as if it was damaged. Bits of plaster were on the floor and insulation hung down in ruined strips. Tools he had in plenty, Magnus had forged more than just bears in here. But escaping involved not only avoiding gun toting goons but incoming winter storms. And he also had to worry about Ms. Banson. Peter had held her incommunicado on a material witness warrant. But he could only hold her for so long without charging her. If she was released and came to warn her lover the FBI was on to them, she might see him and recognize him.

Finally he sat on the wooden stool and pulled the teddy bear to him. Missing ear, obvious repairs in the back that had give the forgery away as a fake...repairs? Neal frowned thoughtfully as he reached for a small pair of sewing scissors. Carefully, he clipped the threads. He felt around inside the hole carefully. Ancient stuffing material met his fingers. He dug deeper. He touched something soft. Paper?

Pulling it out, he found a photo and a letter. The old photo showed a happy boy with his parents. The letter was written in dutch. Surely this wasn't what a tough guy like Hoffman was after? Dipping into the bear again, his fingers brushed another object, apparently wrapped well. A ruby necklace. A war bond, still redeemable, Neal's eyes widened. Several other papers fell out. Land deeds too, plus a list of names, dates and times. Neal knew enough foreign languages and codes to recognize a name. Hoffman's.

Neal's eyes slid half shut as he let the facts roll through his mind, sorting into a pattern. After the bit with the German sub, Nazi and their treasure left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. But Mozzie's comments about Hoffman's history, the clues about where the bear had been found and what it had inside it...

If he was right, a Jewish family had hidden these items in the bear, in hopes of smuggling the child and toy to safety. But something had gone wrong, a Nazi had discovered it's secret. Neal knew enough history to shiver at how they might've obtained that information. But it was too late. An American GI had taken the bear, not knowing what he found. It held riches that could still be claimed and proof that Hoffman a Nazi and could be tried as a war criminal.

How had Hoffman found out about it? Neal considered the rumors of the Senior Hoffman's past. What if the man was a Nazi? Or related? He was mean enough by all accounts. He'd first shown up in the US after World War II, but his history before that was a complete mystery. No one knew anything about his life before that. It was like a black hole.

He was going to have to risk the storm, the con artist realized. He was sure that Philip and Marco planned to kill him either way. He couldn't wait for Peter and his phone had been in his coat. He flinched. What if Peter called and Hoffman realized he worked for the feds? The lights flickered and the wind rattled so hard the house shook. He climbed up on the stool, pushing on the ceiling slats. One gave. He climbed back down, grabbed some tools and started gradually ripping it's nails out. He winced at every squeak but the wind and weather outside covered the sounds.

Neal kept a careful ear out for the younger Hoffman's return. But apparently they thought he was beaten. Grabbing the prized teddy bear, he stuffed the treasures back in and he climbed into the attic. One window in the low ceiling of the attic showed that the snow, sleet and wind were whirling in a dance outside. The cold draft made Neal wince at the idea of going out. He found a trapdoor leading downstairs and crept softly down. A guard was on the landing of the stairs. That meant he'd need to take a window exit. Grimly, he searched until he found a window he figured he could escape through. There was a pipe up to this floor, which was the third. A quick search of nearby rooms revealed the one thing he could've used the most was missing. No coats. No ropes either.

"Oh well." He murmured. "At least I'm not stuck in a cubicle." He tried to look on the bright side, but the screech the window made as he forced it open chilled him as much as the sudden draft. He tucked the bear in his shirt, grabbed the ice cold pipe and began to shinny down it fast. A head popped out the window distracting him from his rapidly numbing hands. A gun appeared and a bright flash. Neal dropped, felt himself flung backward. For a long panicky second he couldn't breathe. Then freezing air and water rushed in and he coughed. Adrenaline gave power to get up and he ran. No hope of stealing a car from that garage now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: Spoilers from the first part of season 3**

* * *

><p>Neal Caffrey paused at the road side, sucking in great lungfuls of frozen air. He was drenched. His hair was icy. He felt frantically at his shoulder, where he was sure he'd been hit by the bullet. He was surprised to find no blood. He cautiously checked his shirt and found no holes. Frowning, he opened his shirt enough to tuck the teddy bear under it. He mused momentarily that it was a shame being hot merchandise didn't mean it gave off much heat. He could've used it. Neal was half frozen already as he strode up the highway, hands tucked under his arms. He stuck his thumb out when a truck went by. It past and slapped him with slush. Surprisingly it stopped. Running and sliding, he grabbed a handle of the big mack truck and leaned in. "My car broke down. I need a ride to New York. "<p>

"Can't help you then. I'm going the other way. But I'll drop you at the nearest town. You stay out here and you'll freeze. No good trying to call for a tow, even if you can get through you'd wait for hours."

"Believe me, I know."

* * *

><p>By the time Neal Caffrey called Peter Burke, the White Collar team was exhausted. The blizzard had made it nearly impossible to find him.<p>

"Are you all right?" Peter demanded.

"I'll be fine." Neal was staring at the teddy bear, sitting on a pillow, which now sported a bullet. He could thank the bear for sacrificing an eye to prevent him from a premature look at the afterlife. He hadn't even realized it until he'd settled in the hotel. "Just cold."

"Where are you?"

Neal's lips twitched into a half smile. Well outside his radius. But it wasn't his fault. "I'm in the Hotel Grand Carlino."

Peter huffed, "That's out of state!"

So Peter did know where it was. "Well, we drove for hours to start with. Then when I escaped I was in a blizzard and had to take the first ride that came along."

"Neal, stay right there and I'll have someone get you."

"Peter, it's too cold for anything. Don't make anyone come get me, they won't want to come out in it, and anyone local will probably take it out on me by putting me in handcuffs. I don't want to go out again either. I'll wait here and then come back when the weather clears, or you can come get me. But don't risk someone's neck over it. We're fine."

"We?"

"The bear and I."

There was a long silence and Neal knew Peter was thinking about it, as well as checking weather and road conditions. "Okay. But call me right before you go to bed, and every hour after you wake up."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. I'm still responsible for you, Neal." Peter, for his part, was having his usual bout of competing concerns. He was worried for Neal's safety since he'd ticked off a murderer. He was worried for Neal's security, because he was, technically off his leash with temptations in the form of bear carrying treasure. To reverse the court mantra : he couldn't be sure beyond a reasonable doubt that Neal wouldn't do something he shouldn't.

He needn't have worried for the moment. His consultant was not at all tempted to leave the hotel. He had the heat cranked up, blankets around him and a mug of hot chocolate. He'd already been through two types of coffee, hot soup and had an equally hot shower, in spite of having no change of clothes. His clothes were drying on the heater while he stayed cozy in a hotel robe. Carefully, the young man pulled out the letter again. It took a bit of translating before he sorted out the words. He was good with languages, but the handwriting was shaky and thin. It had been written in a hurry, a tale of love to a child name Joseph who was being sent to relatives in the country for his own protection. If the place Sam Druther had originally found it was any indication, the child hadn't been safe after all.

Frowning, he stared at the bear, which looked at him quizzically from the one remaining eye. The tough little teddy bear had an amazing and somewhat sad history. Staring at the bullet reminded him of how close he'd come, and he couldn't help but feel something from the past echoing down. The terror of a family as the Nazi's captured them. The sound of gunfire driving a lone American GI to their ruined home.

"I guess I owe you a new eye." He mused. Normally that would affect it's value. But he had a feeling the true owner of the teddy bear didn't measure it's value in mere dollars.

He couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the little boy who had once held it. Maybe he didn't really want to know.

He fell asleep only to dream about it. Winter storms ran through his dreams and he kept glimpsing the boy in the photo leading him onward. "Wait!" A Nazi who looked like Matthew Keller reared up in front of him and smashed him with gun butt...he jolted awake. He blinked as he realized he had the bear in a strangle hold. Somewhat embarrassed, he released it, he rolled over he sighed and went to check his clothes. Glancing out the window he was surprised to find the storm over. Finding the clothes dry, he hid the teddy bear under a pillow, made the bed so (hopefully) the maid wouldn't disturb it. For good measure he hung the 'do not disturb' sign on the door before he headed for the lobby. A few computers were there for the use of guests, and he sat down and began an internet search for the boy in the picture.

In the back of his mind he pondered why this situation affected him so much more than the Nazi treasure. He'd given little enough thought to how it was acquired and how the previous owners robbed by the Nazi's had felt. Then again, he considered, he also hadn't given any real thought into taking it. It was only after it landed in his lap that he'd been tempted. But perhaps it wasn't surprising he'd had little empathy for the victims. Having a fortune in treasure was great and he naturally wanted to keep it. What kid wouldn't be thrilled to find the gold from Treasure Island and expect to keep it? Did any reader of the tale give thought to the people who the pirates had robbed, whose families may have had claim? Anyway, he'd been largely distracted by the tug of war between Mozzie's desire to head for an island and his hurt over Peter's accusations. His emotions had been a war zone. Even now, his only certainty was that deep down, he had known all along he didn't really want to leave. He wanted the freedom to choose, but that didn't mean he would choose to leave Peter and the team. And he also knew he wanted the freedom to return to them. He couldn't do that if he was a fugitive.

By the time Peter arrived, Neal had found the boy, much to his own surprise. He was sitting in his room, with the print outs in front of him. The agent took in the scene as he handed Neal a duffel bag, a coat and his hat. "Figured you could use these."

"Thanks."

The bear was perched on the pillow beside him. Neal rose and headed to the bathroom to change. Peter studied the bear's treasures and then the print out. He stared at Neal when the young man came out. "What's this about?" He waved at the page.

"I found the owner. Joseph Copperstern. The kid in the picture."

"So I guess you figure he's the rightful owner."

"After all this time I assume that's a sticky issue."  
>"You assume right."<p>

"I feel like he should know. Those are family heirlooms inside. Shouldn't he have the letter at least? It's for him, from his parents."

Neal had already made up his mind of course. Peter considered his friend carefully. Neal had shown no sign that he'd considered that the Nazi plunder from the u-boat might be someones heirloom's, priceless or no. But with the teddy bear's trove he clearly felt different. "I say the claim is between Ryan Winsory and Joseph Copperstern. So he's really alive?"

"He's 97 and living nearby. How about a detour? Maybe he knows something. After all, there can't be too many people that new about it. Maybe we can find out how the Hoffman's know."

Peter considered. "I better call Hughes and Ryan Winsory." The phone conversations were short, though getting through to Ryan took awhile. Only afterward did he call Hughes.

Hughes was taken aback by the request. "The bear and it's contents are evidence in an ongoing investigation. We can't release them until the trial is over. And even then it'll be a debate about who owns them." He observed doubtfully. "Maybe we should bring him here."

"The man is nearing 100. He doesn't get out often and he isn't well. We're right here. Letting the guy know this stuff is found, that his family has the potential to claim it when it's released, that's a good thing. And I've already talked to Ryan Winsory. He's interested in meeting them. I think he wants to keep the bear, it's an heirloom for him too. But he feels whats inside it should go to the Coppersterns. I'm sure they can work something out. Anyway, I want to ask about Hoffman. We don't know how he knows about the treasure in the bear. Joseph Copperstern maybe the only one who can or will tell us."

"As long as your already there." Hughes sighed. "I see your point. The last thing I want to do is discourage Caffrey when he's going the right way."

Peter smiled as he disconnected. He went back to the hotel room, where Neal was soaking up heat still as if he feared it would vanish forever. "Ready to meet Joseph?"

Neal grinned back at him.


	6. Chapter 6

The house had bright white Christmas lights around the door and awnings, and menorahs in the windows. The woman that greeted them at the door was cheerful, clad in a blue print and an apron. "Welcome, what can I do for you?" Wonderful cookie smells wafted out.

"We're looking for Joseph Copperstern." Peter showed her is badge. "We've got some information for him."

"Oh..." she hesitated. "He's in bed. I don't know if he's up to visitors."

"Would you check please?" Neal gave her his most charming smile. "We've found something we think he'll be interested in. A family heirloom. The situation's complicated but...we feel he should know."

"A family heirloom?" Her eyes widened. "Oh, I shouldn't keep you out in the cold. Please, come in."

They followed her inside. Glancing around they found the place decorated with Hanukkah motifs.

"You're celebrating now, aren't you?" Peter observed. "We don't mean to intrude. We just happened to be in the area."

"No it's fine, really. My name is Anna. Joseph is my grandfather. Let me check on him for you."

Soft but cheerful music was playing and Neal glanced around at Peter. They both were nervous. Two laughing children raced past, paused to look at them in surprise, then continued on.

Anna returned and smiled. "Don't mind them. My sister's kids. The rest of the family will be home soon. Come with me."

Joseph was propped up on the bed. From the shape of his nose, chin and eyes Neal could just recognize the boy in the photo within the elderly wrinkled man. "Hello."

"Hi." Neal was feeling unusually shy and he glanced at Peter. "We've been investigated a case and...it turns out one important clue led us to you."

"Me? What could I have that could be of any interest to the FBI?" Joseph looked puzzled.

"Just the opposite. It's what we have that is of interest to you." Peter realized he was feeling the uncertainty too. This could raise bad memories. "We've found something that appears to be connected to your family. An heirloom. You may have the right to claim it when it's released from evidence. Of course, it's been in someone else's possession for years and his family found it honestly. He says he'd love to meet you sometime."

"You still have not said what it is."

Neal glanced at Peter who nodded. He got up. "Excuse me a minute." Peter handed him the keys. He headed for the car, where the teddy bear and it's contents were locked safely in the trunk.

Peter held his hands out. "Please understand we can't let you have it now because it's evidence. But you can tell us if you really are interested..."

Neal came back with a box. Lifting the lid out, he removed the bear. Joseph's eyes widened and his jaw dropped into an open mouthed smile of awe. Neal held up the photo and letter, also in a separate bag. "These were inside the stitched up place. Everything in the box."

Holding the bear, but not opening the seal the man smiled. "My friend has seen as many hard times as I, it seems." He studied the picture and read the letter. Tears gleamed in his eyes. "I was the only one to survive." He paused, turning the sealed letter so he could read it inside the plastic. "This is like hearing from my family from beyond the grave." His eyes were soft.

"They came before we could escape. I was with my uncle and the very day we were to leave the Nazi's came and took us away. We were allowed to keep nothing." He held the bear, still in the evidence bag. "Land deeds, a jeweled necklace..." His eyes narrowed. And the list. My uncle found out the names of neighbors collaborating with the enemy. People we thought were friends. He was going to warn the others. But it was too late."

Peter sucked in a breath. "Did you know all this was in the bear?"

"No. I only knew my mother and uncle told me never to lose it. I felt terrible when the Nazi's took it away."

"Do you know either of these men?" Peter held up photographs showing the Hoffmans.

Joseph's eyes narrowed into a bitter line. "Yes. Marco Hoffweiler. He was one of them. He joined the Nazi's and became a guard in the camp. He murdered my uncle. I heard later he tortured him.

Neal winced. "Wish I could say I'm surprised."

Joseph's eyes were enormous now. "You know this man? He lives?" He sat bolt upright. "I'd never dared hope he'd be brought to justice..."

"Please, Grandfather, you're still recovering." Anna shot them a warning look.

"If what we read in that book is right, we are about to take him down." Peter said firmly. "And his son too."

"If you do, you will truly be on the side of angels. He is a monster in human skin."

Peter nodded slowly. "We'll get him. Thank you for your time. We'll let you know how it turns out."

"Thank you! I never thought I would see my little bear friend again, let alone the treasure he protects."

* * *

><p>"Do we have enough?" Neal asked, admiring the winter snow and Christmas lights sleepily from the passenger seat. The bear and it's stash were back in the trunk. "To take them down?"<p>

"We practically have him confessing to you that Philip killed Magnus thanks to the Eagle pen recorder. And Marco tried to buy those books that were stolen and the forgeries were later sold. With Joseph Copperstern and any accounts from historical societies, we should be able to prove he is really Hoffweiler. That plus that little journal about his Nazi activities and he's sunk."

"I'll feel safer when he's locked up. Hoffman Jr. made me feel like I was in a freezer by just being in the same room."

"And the bullet? You've got friends in high places. And one loyal stuffed one."

"What do you mean?"

"According to the curator, the teddy wasn't sporting a bullet for an eye when it was taken. And how a simple stuffed bear stopped a bullet is beyond me. It should've have barely even slowed it down."

"Let's just say I owe it one." Neal gave a half smile as he glanced over at Peter. "Maybe it was a ricochet. Or maybe it's gift rubbed off on me."

"Gift?"

"Any toy that has survived all that one has must have an incredible gift for survival."

"You have an incredible talent for it yourself. Or one overworked guardian angel."

"Why, thank you." Neal grinned brightly. "I thought you didn't believe in miracles and angels."

"Lapsed catholic I may be. But there aren't too many ways to explain how you have gotten yourself into all of these situations with people waving guns and still come out alive."


	7. Chapter 7

Neal shifted through a mass of documents faxed over from the Holocaust museum. Normally he'd have been bored with all the paperwork. Now though he was hot on the scent and also basking in the warmth of being indoors.

He'd found the name Hoffweiler in several documents. The man had been mentioned in survivor accounts. Some remembered him as a 'helpful' neighbor. Others reported his true wickedness later when he began working as a guard in the death camps. Neal's eyes lit up with a fiery gleam when his persistent searching and cross referencing between faxes, files and the internet revealed old pictures of the man. He grinned. It was Hoffman.

Jones noticed. "Got something?"

"I scored a photo. I can tell at a glance it's him."

Jones came over and grinned back. "And if anyone has any doubts..." he held up another paper with a flourish and laid it alongside. It was a digital photo. Caffrey's eyebrows rose.

"Is that..?"

"Yep. Reverse aging, just like the aging on missing kid's posters only working backword."

The pictures matched, in spite of the age of the original. "What are we waiting for?" Neal asked. "We've got enough on him don't we? Peter said we already did."

Diana came up then frowning. "I think from the scowl on his face someone is blocking him. I've got calls in to some contacts. Apparently Hoffman and son have some deep pockets and friends in high places."

Jones frowned and shook his head in disgust. Neal's eyes had narrowed disapprovingly. His cell rang and he grabbed it, eyes on Peter's office. Peter stormed out and went in to see Hughes. Neal could see Hughes grab a phone. Tearing his eyes away he read the text message onscreen and grabbed his jacket and hat.

"Where are you going?"

"To meet a friend."

"Uh huh." Jones shook his head. "Hope Mozzie has some good news."

"Just remember...Hoffman knows you took that bear." Diana said. "Be careful."

Neal smiled. "I will. Thanks."

Hurrying outside, he kept his eyes open for anyone suspicious. In spite of the cold chill of the air, he carried the warmth of the office with him as he hurried to the park. It felt good knowing Jones and Diana, as well as Peter, had his back. He was halfway there before he realized that he did, in fact, have a tail. Frowning slightly, he turned as he strolled by a window as if peering inside. A car was following him. That was never a good sign. Casually, he ducked into a cafe as he saw the car rolling closer. He looked around and found the kitchen. Glancing back out, he noticed the car pause and rolled slowly past. Forcing himself to remain patient, he bought a pastry and munched it to keep inconspicuous, while stepping over to a pillar and to keep watch. The car rolled by again. Someone across the street wearing jeans and a hoodie seemed to be signaling it.

Neal casually moved behind the counter while the cashier was helping a customer on the other end. He ducked back into the kitchen through the aroma of delicious smells and darted out the employee entrance to the sound of an employees startled question. He sent a quick text to Mozzie and another to Peter. Just in case anyone grabbed him again, he certainly wanted them looking.

Ducking through allies, Neal moved along quickly and finally reemerged up another busy street. There were more people here. He slowed to a stroll and kept an eye out but his followers didn't reappear.

He found Mozzie and rolled his eyes as his friend insisted on the 'quote' password before he stepped out of the bushes.

"Moz, I'm kind of busy for word games."

"Were you followed?"

"Not after I got ducked through the cafe."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. Moz, wants wrong?" His friend looked spooked.

Mozzie looked around, in spite of the cold he was sweating. "There's a price on your head."

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure it's Hoffman. He wants you brought in. Alive and able to talk, but not necessarily in one piece. The reward is $5000."

Neal's eyebrows shot up. "Ouch. I'm not sure whether to be worried or insulted."

"Yeah. It gets better." Mozzie's eyes met his. "The hit gives out all the information on you. Including that you work for the FBI as a consultant and your current address."

Neal stiffened. "June..."

"I hope you can rustle up some help from your fed friends because someone should be giving her protection."

Neal's fists tightened. "Where did they get all that? I was undercover and using an alias. I know they didn't make me. Even if his Ms. Banson contacted him, she wouldn't know where I lived." His voice trailed off.

"Well, the reward just went out after you got back. Did you rattle any bushes since then?"

"I've been doing paperwork!" Neal considered, suddenly remembering Peter storming into Hughes office. "But Peter has been trying to get a warrant. And Diana said he was having problems because the guy knows people..." His fists sank into his pockets and he fell silent, frowning.

Mozzie shook his head. "You'd better chop the head off the monster quick, Neal. I get the feeling if he gets you, you're going to regret it."

"Thanks for the heads up Moz. I knew they were probably after me, but knowing they have my address really raises the red flag."

Neal was already reaching for the cell phone when it rang. "It's Peter. Great timing. I was just going to call."

"If you need a safe house, let me know." Moz frowned.

"The FBI has safe houses Moz."

"Yeah. And if these guys can get the information on your deal with them, they can find the not so safe houses too."

"Thank you Mr. Sunshine."

"You know what I mean. If you need to ditch them..."

"I know. Thanks Moz."

Neal finally answered the phone.

"What took you so long!" Peter sounded flustered. "I was starting to worry. When I got the text..."

"Ah, Peter..." Neal was reluctant to tell him. The price for protection from the bad guys might cost him some freedoms. "They've got a price on me and they know where I live. Can you get some protection to June's?"

Peter was pacing when Neal got back to the office. "We finally got the warrant. Let's go." Peter looked unhappy.

Neither was surprised to find that the Hoffman's were neither at home or the office.

"They've delayed us long enough to let them flee."

" At the very least, they aren't out of the country. Airports are closed because another storm is blowing in." Diana pointed out. "And Jones has the police in surrounding states on the lookout if they are crazy enough to drive out."

"We have one advantage." Neal said slowly. "They want me."

"How is that a good thing?"

Neal hesitated. "What if I put the word out that I'm willing to deal. The teddy bear's contents in exchange for lifting the price on my head and assistance getting out of the country?"

Peter stared at him. "Neal, he's a mass murderer"

"That's exactly why we can't let him get away. You'll have my back right?"

"You really think the Hoffman's would come themselves?" Jones asked. "They have plenty of henchman to do their dirty work."

"Their henchman lost me. If you want a job done right, do it yourself. Especially if that much is at stake." Neal pointed out.

"And since they know your working for us, they may believe you would be willing to get off of the leash."

"Yes."

"All right. But we need to be really careful." Peter sighed inwardly. He hated to let Neal go into this danger at the same time he was proud of his willingness to do so. He just feared that some day, good intentions and a slick smile wouldn't be enough to get him out of it.


	8. Chapter 8

"Neal, you've pulled some crazy stunts. _We've_ pulled some crazy stunts...but this..."

"Is the most important one of all."

"The most likely to get you killed you mean!" Mozzie glared at him.

"He's a Nazi war criminal Moz." Neal lifted the pen from paper and admired the forged land deed. The real stuff wasn't going to leave the FBI building.

"They'll know you didn't take it. He knows what's going on in the building."

"I hope so. That means he'll know about the blow up between me and them … staged of course... about how they treat me as expendable. And that the evidence has been replaced by fakes."  
>"It has?" Mozzie's eyes were huge.<p>

"It will be soon and for long enough to be noticed."

Mozzie shook his head. "Burke's fantastic four?"

Neal grinned. "Of course. Not that we think anyone in the department is directly in touch with Hoffman. It's probably someone higher up reading reports. All it takes is a friend of a friend, or someone with leverage."

* * *

><p>"Now <em>I'm<em> crazy..." Mozzie grumbled. It was too cold out for this. He'd followed Neal to the meet, not trusting that Hoffman didn't know the agents on sight. Through his binoculars, at a glance, he could spot Jones, sitting in an off duty cab with a dent and the hood up. He was apparently talking on the phone. He had to concede that he wouldn't automatically have made him as a fed if he hadn't known him. Up on a building light created a gleam where there shouldn't have been one. He was pretty sure Hoffman had someone up there and he was glad the brooding skies would cut visibility. A couple of blocks up the street, he spotted a van, then another. It took him a moment to figure out which van was the FBI spotter.

The meet was public, in the park, near the entrance. So Neal was standing there in the cold, with a duffel bag in hand. His eyes roamed the area and stopped when Hoffman Jr. showed up. He strode up as if to walk by, talking on his cell. His hand dipped into his pocket and Mozzie stiffened. He knew the guy was packing, as was the fellow in a dark green jacket, leaning nearby on the fence with apparent casual disinterest in his surroundings.

Neal was talking to Hoffman Jr. now, hand tight on the duffel. Hoffman showed him something...not the gun, Moz knew Neal and he didn't react as if the other had the gun out. Papers. He was showing him documents to get him out of the FBI radar. From the set of his jaw, he was grinding his teeth. Neal had made him look bad, Junior would probably renege on the deal as soon as he had the stuff.

Mozzie started sweeping the area around with the binoculars. There were two possibilities. No, three. Hoffman Junior would try and shoot Neal or stab him as soon as he had the stuff, he'd have someone else shoot him from a distance or...

Mozzie scanned the traffic and his eyes spotted a luxury car with it's emergency flashers on limping up the road and blocking traffic. Staring hard at the windshield, his mouth tightened as he recognized Hoffman Sr. in the passenger seat. Why would he be up front with the chauffeur? Unless..."

Mozzie broke into a trot, fingers tapping at his burner cell phone and sending a message to Burke.

Expertly ducking through the well scouted area, he approached Neal and Hoffman Jr. Neal was just handing him the bag with the fake bear, documents and jewels. "I'll mail you the last bit of info when I'm out of the country."

"You'll give it to me now."

"You think I'm dumb enough to have it all on me? I didn't trust you not to double cross me."  
>"I warned you." The man snarled.<p>

"You were planning to kill me anyway. Knowing that kind of takes away my incentive to cooperate."

The car was picking up speed. Mozzie hurried closer, noticed someone with a camera glance up at him. It was Diana, apparently looking the other way, but Mozzie knew she was watching. The car stopped, flashing it's lights, jammed on the brakes and slid right next to Neal and Hoffman Jr. The younger man grabbed Neal, whipping out the gun even as he tossed the bag into the opening car door. His father caught it. Neal leaped back hard, almost got away but he slipped on the ice. Mozzie jumped forward and grabbed the gun, kicking hard.

Neal fought for an eternally long second trying to breathe again after the hard ground hit him. He spotted Jones running at them and heard him yelling with his gun drawn. Diana was in a fight with a man twice her size but not nearly as fast and well trained. The van up the street roared toward them slamming through traffic and was rammed by another car which intentionally swerved into them. Agents poured out and fired into the car. Peter clamored right over the hood in his way to run toward them, gun drawn. Hoffman Sr. was stepping out of the car, lunging at Mozzie with a knife. Neal forced himself up. Adrenaline fueled him as he slammed into the car door, smashing Hoffman half in and half out. The man cursed and swung the knife at him.

Mozzie landed a foot hard on Hoffman Junior's arm, eliciting a howl. Peter charged up and aimed at Hoffman Senior. "Drop it."

Neal fell back a step to let Peter drag Hoffman out of the car. Diana was now pointing a gun at Hoffman Junior, who'd lost his gun to Mozzie and was bleeding. "Moz, what did you do to him?"

He looked up to see Mozzie disappearing into the park, as usual avoiding the FBI closing in. He had something in his hand as he vanished. Neal's phone vibrated. He glanced at the text message. "That's what they get for messing with innocent teddy bears." Neal shook his head and smirked at Mozzie's odd logic. Neal's eyes fell on the ground, spotting his friend's bloody trail of footprints through the snow. At first he frowned, concerned. Then, noticing the pattern he grinned. "Oh."

"What?" Peter demanded, huffing from exertion and cold, but grinning.

"He was wearing ice spikes."

"Huh. Why didn't you think of that?"

"Wouldn't have gone with my outfit."

Peter rolled his eyes.

"What about our leak?" Neal asked, changing the subject.

"Now that we've got the Hoffmans in custody, I'll get Jones to check the phone records. From there we should be able to figure out who he's been talking to."

As it turned out, it was the wife of one of the agents in another department in the FBI. Neal and Peter were well known and the agent, Darnell Wilson, had often shared stories of their antics with his family. He had no idea that Hoffman had connections through his wife. It had something to do with a complicated situation involving past crimes of a relative who she would do anything to protect.

"So, she's admitted everything?" Neal asked.

"Yeah, and Darnell is devastated. But he's standing by her anyway." Jones said.

"Great loyalty for a marriage. Not great for the career, but great for relationships." Neal nodded.

"And Ms. Banson is being charged as an accessory. Turns out the Hoffman's may have known the story of the bear, but the didn't know where it was until she casually mentioned it to her lover Philip."

Peter came out of his office, where he'd been on the phone. "I just got a couple of calls." He looked a bit surprised. "We're invited to a celebration at the museum."

* * *

><p>The return of the bear to the museum was an event. The director found out agent Burke had a wife in the catering business and Elizabeth was instantly hired for the celebration. Past visitors and children's groups were invited to attend, guaranteeing a lively celebration. The whole museum was done in Christmas lights and in the main room a Christmas tree was proudly displayed. In honor of the bears lost Jewish family, menora style electric candles were on the met Ryan Windory first, back in the States on leave and delighted to be involved. The Copperstein family showed up next, apologizing that Joseph wasn't there.<p>

Neal noticed something odd about Anna's smile. She had a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Before he managed to free her from the crowd and investigate, her secret was revealed. The front door opened and Santa Claus came in. Dressed more like the old World Saint Nicholas but still very recognizable as Santa, he carried a giant bag. "Ho Ho Ho I hear some good kids are here!"

The children were shrieking with surprised joy. Neal's eyes widened and he glanced at Peter, who leaked equally surprised. It was Joseph Copperstern!

"That is an amazing recovery." Peter observed.

Anna came over and smiled at them. "It meant the world to him to find out what happened to the bear and the family treasures. And Ryan has been great too. Her eyes met Ryan Winsory across the room, grinning and holding a child up so she could see over the crowd. "Not everyone would've been willing to give back those items, after they'd possessed them so long. He's a good man."

A good man who was right by some mistletoe, Neal observed. He had a feeling the two families would end up very close.

"Your grandfather sure is in the holiday spirit. I thought Santa Claus was more a Christian tradition." Neal commented.

"Grandfather says Santa Claus is the spirit of generosity. And Christians and Jews worship the same God." She observed. "He believes in focusing honestly on the similarities, and trying to understand the differences. Knowledge and compassion trump hatred he says. That to him, to our family, is what the holiday 'season' is all about."

"Peace on earth, goodwill to men." Neal quoted.

"Is everyone ready for some presents?" The unusual Santa asked, grinning joyously.

The children's joyous shrieks overrode all at that. Santa Copperstern opened the sack. Neal grinned now. Peter just shook his head. Elizabeth came up and took his arm, leaning against him and smiling. The sack was full of teddy bears! Not the collectible kind, but the kind any child would enjoy, black and brown, white and tan. Some had clothes, others just a bow. He started passing out the bears.

"This just adds to that particular bear's legend." Neal observed.

"Yes. The bear continues though the humans in the story changes." Ryan stated, moving to stand by Anna.

"If it has sentimental value why give it to the museum?" Neal asked.

"Technically, I'm loaning it. He's safer here, in spite of this. With all the traveling I do, I'm afraid I'd lose it. I'd feel like I was losing a piece of my own history. That bear belonged to my birth Dad too. Even though my stepfather adopted me, I like having that reminder."

Neal considered this, inwardly amused at Ryan's slip of tongue: he'd called the toy bear 'he'. He felt an odd inward twinge at Ryan's generosity. Ryan's behavior made him feel a bit ashamed. He'd resisted the lure of Nazi treasure because he'd have had to give up his life as part of the White Collar team and his friendship with Peter. He'd never truly thought about the people who'd had it before. Those families might rejoice at the memories of lost loved ones it inspired if it were returned. The thought made him uncomfortable. The museum director motioned to Neal, who walked over to talk to him, glad of the distraction. He was talking to Neal in a way that had Peter frowning as he sipped his drink.

Elizabeth jostled his arm. "Peter, you have that look."

"What look?"

"The Neal is up to something look."

"He is."

"Why not just ask him what their talking about?" Elizabeth challenged. She strolled up to Neal and director and spoke to them. She smiled at the whatever the reply was. They came back with her to where Peter was frozen, staring, drink half way to his mouth and wary.

Director Jaywin spoke first. "I've asked Mr. Caffrey if we could put the copies in the museum. Would that be all right with the FBI?"

Peter's mouth hung open. "Why?"

"Well, naturally, the originals are evidence, and Ryan agrees they should be returned to the Coppersterns, in spite of how long they've been in his family. So we thought of adding the copies – clearly labeled of course – to a special exhibit showing the teddy bear's history. They've both agreed the teddy bear should stay in the museum. Technically Ryan would officially own the bear, but here, all get to enjoy it and learn from it. "

Peter blinked at Neal, who was smirking knowingly.

"I'm not sure. Even the copies are going to have to stay in evidence for awhile. How much information are you going to put in it?"

"Why all of it we're allowed. And the FBI and your people get credit for saving the bear and the discovery. If we can't have the copies first made, perhaps you could make others?" The last he addressed to Neal, hopefully.

Peter's mouth hung open.

Neal's eyes were bright. "I'd love to. Give me a chance to keep my skills sharp."

Director Jaywin looked at Peter questioningly.

"Uh. Right. I guess...as long as it's all clearly labeled as imitation..." He said slowly, while doubting whether or not encouraging his consultant to keep his forgery talents finely honed was a good idea.

"I think it's wonderful, honey." Elizabeth was smiling and her eyes turned to study Ryan and Anna who were discussing the museum.

To the eyes of both Neal and Peter, the Joseph 'Claus' seemed reanimated and far younger than when they'd first met. Neal walked over to join them.

"Yes." Peter was shaking his head slowly. "People are living history when you think about it...but Neal..."

"What?"

Jones and Diana with her girlfriend Christie were over there too, clearly enjoying the place now that there was no blood marring the scene. "What was that about?"

"They want to put up the copies in the museum as part of a special exhibit on the bear." Elizabeth filled them in.

"Neal's forgeries legitimately in a museum?"

Elizabeth hid a smile behind her hand. Peter groaned. "We're never going to hear the end of it are we?"  
>Jones held up a glass and smiled. "Here's to amending our Christmas wish lists."<p>

Peter eyed him.

"To put earplugs at the top of the list."

"I will definitely drink to that."

Neal glanced back at his friends, smiling in puzzlement. Now what, he wondered, were they laughing so hard about?


End file.
